Green, green grass

There is a kind of life that some people lead. I imagine these people thinking about how lucky they are. How they couldn’t imagine living a different kind if life. In my head, these people live in wide open spaces, perhaps near mountains. They live close to the earth, away from cities. They work hard and play hard and get dirty and come home tired every day. To their warm, softly lit home. To eat a wholesome meal and sleep on their feather bed.

Others have lunch in a seaside cafe, enjoying the cool breeze and discussing philosophy. They will pick something up from the market on their way home – something fresh and delicious pulled from the bay that morning.
 
Anyway, this is the kind of life that leads people to feel blessed.  Not tied to a desk all day.  Commuting back and forth. Going home late.  Tired, stressed out from dealing with people who are tethered to their desks and their commutes. Not seeing the sun or feeling the breeze or experiencing any terrain or nature from inside the box-shaped, windowless building.
 
Yes. Those people who live that other kind of life show up on the Travel Channel from time to time.  They talk about how they came to live that kind of life.  How they can’t imagine any other kind of life.  How they would be miserable being tied to a desk.  I want to scream at the T.V.
 

There was this ad at the gas station for something called Marlboro Southern Cut.  Wide open mesa with mountains.  I was still reeling from the Viagra commercial with the guy pulling his truck out of the mud with his horses.  And there’s a calendar hanging in my cubicle with a picture of the Badlands.  Sitting outside having lunch, the cool moist breeze felt like sitting seaside.  Then I went back inside to spend a few hours printing and sorting and filing documents.  I wanted to scream at my calendar.

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2 Responses to Green, green grass

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